


after touch

by orphan_account



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...turning away, not meeting Taekwoon's gaze, he said: 'I'll pay you back someday,' and as simply as that: he was gone, but not for long."</p>
            </blockquote>





	after touch

**Author's Note:**

> [[song inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk2jjCSeUHc)] reposted from my livejournal; my very first leobin fic ;;;; enjoy!

The boy at the payphone had been there for ten minutes; and over the duration of time, his voice had become increasingly louder. Taekwoon, who was sat behind the register, sat on a bar stool that hurt his ass, tried to focus on the television and not the conversation. But inside the shop: silence, apart from the boy. At a quarter past eleven, not many people came in anymore; and in such a small place the sound resonated quite freely.  
  
'What, go on a date with you?'  
  
Taekwoon looked over the register, subtle curiosity.  
  
'Sure, I'll go with you!'  
  
Eyes back on the television, he cradled his chin in his palm.  
  
'A movie? Isn't that a little cliché..' soft laugh; it must have been good news. 'Which movie, then? There aren't many good ones out.' Taekwoon could see the boy twirling the phone chord between his fingers, smiling to himself; and for whatever reason, felt his own chest swell with satisfaction. It was always nice to hear good news.  
  
'But action movies are so boring,' the boy was saying. 'Well, why don't I get a say in this?' and here, a pause not entirely comfortable. The boy's face changed. 'Oh!' and a false smile widened his mouth. 'You want to take Wonsik out..'  
  
And just like that: the atmosphere changed, it turned sour as the boy slouched back against the phone, chin to his chest.  
  
'I haven't talked to him in a while, but I'm sure he's interested. Oh, he's already told you he's interested. Then alright, I won't mind. Let me know how it goes.'  
  
Taekwoon shifted in his seat, began straightening the fliers on the counter; nervous tick of his hands, he had to move, had to do something. He heard the click of the phone as it was returned to its cradle, sharp intake of breath and then, very suddenly, a presence in front of him.  
  
'Give me a dime,' the boy demanded. Weary eyes, red-rimmed and on the verge of tears. Taekwoon shoved a hand into his pocket and gave him a coin.  
  
A minute later and he was shouting into the phone.  
  
'You're going out with him? When you knew I liked him. Why would you do that? I should have never introduced you. You wouldn't even know him if it wasn't for me! ..oh, don't act so goddamn innocent about it. He asked me for permission. Do you know how humiliating-- you  _told_  him to ask me? What if I had said no, Wonsik. What then? Well, I'm saying no now! Hell no, you can't have him.'  
  
Taekwoon lowered his eyes, lowered his head; he wondered if he left, would the boy notice?  
  
'Hey, hey-- I'm not finished yet! Don't hang up on m--  _Wonsik_!'  
  
The slam of the phone against the cradle, interior bell ringing from the abuse; then back to the counter and only then did Taekwoon realize he had inadvertently curled into himself; his only way of avoiding the situation.  
  
'Do you have another--'  
  
He shoved three dimes across the counter. But this time Wonsik didn't answer. Taekwoon thought that was a pretty stupid move.  
  
Five minutes passed. The whole time Taekwoon had his eyes on the analog clock above the register; he watched as the minute hand moved with obscene slowness. And the boy: still by the payphone, crying now. It was a faint sound, drowned out by the television and the bustle of night life just outside the store's opened door, but even though he was silent in his unraveling, it did not lift the weight in the air.  
  
Taekwoon wondered if he should say something. Maybe he could ask if the boy would be alright, ask him if he wanted something to drink, but the thought alone of speaking to him made discomfort rise steadily inside him. He thought about walking up to him; surely his presence alone could be enough for the boy to speak for himself, and if he didn't maybe he would simply leave. Taekwoon wasn't entirely against this outcome.  
  
So: rounding the counter and approaching him, Taekwoon touched his shoulder gently with only the tip of his index finger. Such a light touch and still the boy startled. He turned, looked up with swollen eyes and then..  
  
rushed right into him.  
  
He buried his face into the curve of Taekwoon's shoulder. It couldn't have been comfortable, for his forehead was biting directly into his collarbone; but there he stayed, weeping and wetting the front of his shirt.  
  
Taekwoon didn't know what to do with his hands.  
  
He first touched the boy's shoulders, patted his back in the most awkward embrace, and ultimately settled for stroking the back of his head as if he was a beloved pet. He knew little about these situations.  
  
But then: a hard shove against his chest as the boy pushed him away, pushed him like he didn't understand why they were touching in the first place. And: standing there, an arms length apart, not daring to look one another in the eye.  
  
Softly, 'Can you take me home?'  
  
Taekwoon nodded.  
  
He only had a motorbike, but the boy didn't seem to mind. He hopped on the back without saying a word, arms wound tightly about Taekwoon's middle; hands balled into firm fists with his shirt caught between his fingers. It was as if he was afraid of falling off. Maybe it was his first time on a bike; a first for both of them. Taekwoon had never had someone ride on the back before.  
  
He gave signals with his hands, pointed toward the streets Taekwoon was to take and said absolutely nothing. It was too cold to be out without a sweater, but still Taekwoon was warm with the firm chest pressed into his back and the warmth of the boy's cheek against the nape of his neck. It was odd in a way if he thought about it, which he did, to be traveling halfway across the city with a stranger literally attached to him, not knowing exactly where he was going; watching as the roads stretched before him. Bars and clubs; people too wasted to be out in the cold; the cluttered claustrophobic streets and the neon of the city reflected off so many windshields.  
  
This was so far from the normality of Taekwoon's life that he felt pained discomfort wash over him. And was relieved when the boy said, 'stop here.'  
  
A small apartment building, three stories high, tucked between two bars that were already closed for the night.  
  
He was up and off the bike before the engine was turned off. And: turning away, not meeting Taekwoon's gaze, he said: 'I'll pay you back someday,' and left before Taekwoon could tell him no.  
  
As simply as that: he was gone, but not for long.  
  
He returned the next day, and the day after that; two nights spent the same exact way: sat at the counter on a bar stool with Taekwoon beside him. Crying on his shoulder, always crying. He cried more than any human Taekwoon had ever met; he seriously wondered how one person could have so many tears.  
  
His name was Hongbin, and he talked an awful lot; and in return, Taekwoon had a lot he wanted to say back. Like: there was only so much that could be said over the phone; that harsh words lost their touch when used too often; that Wonsik was an asshole and that maybe the situation would be better resolved if they talked face to face. And if even then nothing was fixed, Hongbin could give him a good punch and leave it alone. But Taekwoon was not good with words, and there weren't very many opportunities to speak with Hongbin around. It didn't seem to matter, though. Hongbin understood his silence well.  
  
So: at the counter with ten minutes to spare before it would be closing time, Hongbin was silent for the first time in a long time, no longer crying but still with his face in the crook of Taekwoon's neck. It seemed he was most comfortable there. Taekwoon didn't mind. But in this silence, all the things he wanted to say and all the pressure of saying them. He kept quiet, and subtly hit his fist against the counter top.  
  
'You're right,' Hongbin said shortly. 'You're absolutely right, he does deserve to get hit.'  
  
Taekwoon nodded enthusiastically, was already rising from his seat when Hongbin pulled him by his shirt to sit back down.  
  
'But we can't do that. As much as I want to, it'd only make me look petty. I already look petty enough.'  
  
Taekwoon brushed Hongbin's fringe out of his eyes, shook his head in his silent way of saying:  _no, you don't._  
  
'Yes, I do. But it's alright. I just, I don't know what to do,' and he slouched with his chin in his hands.  
  
Nibbling his lower lip, Taekwoon looked around the store. Empty, utterly empty, but still five minutes on the clock. Surely his mother couldn't be angry about five lost minutes. To his feet, grabbing a bottle of wine from the display above the counter, he pulled at the hood of Hongbin's jacket and took him outside.  
  
He'd been taking Hongbin home every night for three nights now and already knew the way by heart. And upon finding himself lost the first time trying to get back to the store, he also knew there was a golf course five blocks west of the apartment. That's where he was headed tonight, and with Hongbin holding on tightly, they wound through the quiet streets of Seoul.  
  
'Why here?' Hongbin asked as he dismounted the bike. 'Because it's close to my place?'  
  
Taekwoon nodded and gave him the bottle.  
  
'Oh, you want to get me drunk?' he laughed softly. 'Alright, sure, but I'm not taking you home with me.'  
  
'No, that's no--'  
  
'What?' Hongbin stopped walking, mouth open in subtle awe.  
  
'That's not my intention.'  
  
'I've never heard you talk before.' He continued to stare at Taekwoon for what felt like a very long time; and then a wide grin brightened his face. 'I like your voice.'  
  
Taekwoon grunted.  
  
The field was damp, but neither boy said anything as they sat across each other with the bottle between them. Taekwoon saw that Hongbin was shivering, and without much thought, began shrugging his own jacket off. He was shot down immediately.  
  
'No, you'll catch a cold. I'll be fine,' and he opened the bottle with breakneck speed, tossing the cap onto the grass, chugging with all the enthusiasm of a sober alcoholic.  
  
'So, if you didn't want me to take you home, then why here?'  
  
Taekwoon shrugged.  
  
'Is it because it's close? In case you're too drunk to drive.'  
  
A nod.  
  
'Oh, come on, Taekwoon. I know you can talk now, you don't have to be so quiet. All this time I thought you were a mute,' he giggled softly to himself. 'I really thought I was going to have to learn sign language to understand you.'  
  
Taekwoon laughed quietly at that, trying hard to conceal his smile.  
  
'Say something.'  
  
He shook his head.  
  
'Please.'  
  
And sighed. He hated being asked to talk, it only made him want to stay silent even more; but looking at Hongbin with his overt excitement, and the way he was chewing on his lower lip.. it made Taekwoon's chest feel tight.  
  
He cleared his throat, thought of what to say, could think of nothing; and ended up letting out whatever would fall from his mouth.  
  
'I don't like that you're sad,' and was unpleasantly surprised by the way Hongbin's bottom lip began to quiver. 'Did I upset you?'  
  
'No,' he waved Taekwoon off and rubbed at his face, 'you didn't. It's that... well, I don't like it either. It feels like just being here makes me sad. Having to wake up where he wakes up, knowing he's close. I don't think I'll be happy until I'm on the moon, or something.' Another heavy pull from the bottle. He offered it to Taekwoon who took it absentmindedly. 'I liked Jaehwan for a year and that's a long time to like the same person. Never mind that he didn't like me back. I could live with that. I could even live with it if he started dating someone else, but not Wonsik! I've known Wonsik since I was ten!' He pounded his fist against the ground, and immediately began shaking his hand as pain blossomed. '...fuck.'  
  
Taekwoon couldn't help but laugh; he tried to stop it from bubbling out of his mouth, but only wound up snorting instead.  
  
'You like when other people get hurt, is that it?'  
  
And, God, he was really losing it now; head tucked into his arms, body shaking with silent laughter. Sometimes he couldn't believe the shit Hongbin said.  
  
'Stop it,' but Hongbin was laughing too, softly hitting Taekwoon's shoulders. 'It's not funny, asshole.'  
  
But it was. It really was.  
  
Taekwoon looked up with wet eyes. He easily composed himself, forcing his mouth back into a straight line as Hongbin watched him carefully. Slowly, he reached across the space between them and pushed Hongbin's hair out of his eyes. His fingers lingered just a bit too long against the softness of his skin.  
  
Hongbin sighed. 'I know, I know.. it's all so stupid. I should just forget about them.' He looked at the wine. 'Is that why you bought that? Is it supposed to help me forget about it?'  
  
Soft twitch at the corner of Taekwoon's mouth was all Hongbin needed.  
  
'Well, then hurry up and take a drink. We should be drunk by now.'  
  
Twenty minutes later the wine was gone, bottle discarded somewhere on the field; and in Taekwoon's lap: Hongbin's head. He ran his fingers absently through his hair as he listened to him talk; and even though Hongbin had had far more wine, he looked ten times more sober. But still, there was a soft slur beneath his words and his hands, extremely cold, kept finding their way onto Taekwoon's face. He'd stroke his cheek, touch his neck; icy fingers playing against his collarbones.  
  
'Screw them,' he whispered, and looked up expectantly. 'Right?'  
  
Taekwoon nodded.  
  
'They aren't important. So, yeah, screw them!' He sat up quickly, swaying. 'They won't last anyway, it doesn't matter.' He smiled proudly, 'Right?'  
  
'Right.'  
  
'Take me home.' Hongbin got to his feet, hands out to help Taekwoon, but he didn't need help.  
  
They walked from the golf course, Taekwoon lighting a cigarette and Hongbin bouncing lively next to him. It took 20 minutes to reach the apartments, but the walk had done little to sober him. He couldn't feel his face.  
  
'Do you want to come up?' Hongbin asked, quietly.  
  
Taekwoon simply looked at him, then looked at the ground.  
  
'I promise. No funny stuff.'  
  
Still, he wouldn't answer.  
  
'Fine,' and Hongbin made as if to leave, only walking up three steps before leaning on the railing. He asked, 'Are you sure you don't want to? It's warm in there, and you can sleep. Or just.. sit there. Until you can drive.'  
  
He thought about walking back to his bike, thought that by then he should be sober enough to make it home. But he was already freezing; his jacket really wasn't that warm. So: slowly, and a bit begrudgingly, he followed Hongbin up the narrow cement steps to the second floor.  
  
The apartment was small, almost extremely so. It was made up of one room, a small kitchen and a bathroom so spacious it could have been a bedroom. There was a large bed, a stereo system and no television. He wondered what Hongbin did all day.  
  
'It's warm, right?' he smiled. 'Go ahead and sit on the bed. I don't have chairs. I don't really have people over, but..' and he hastily began picking up discarded clothing, CD cases; anything that may give too much away. 'Sorry it's so messy.'  
  
Taekwoon slipped his shoes off by the front door, sat on the edge of the mattress and was surprised by how tired he suddenly felt. The warmth, the soft bed; he was cozy enough just sitting there.  
  
Hongbin, by the stereo, began pushing buttons, flipped open the CD player. 'Tell me if you've heard this before.'  
  
It was an old song. Something from the 90's, something in English. Taekwoon didn't think there was a single person in the world who didn't know this song.  
  
'I think they're American,' Hongbin said.  
  
'Irish.'  
  
'Oh? So you do know them.' He smiled brightly and clutched the CD case to his chest. 'It's my favorite. And their band name, it's kind of cute. The Cranberries,' he said this the way an announcer may say it on the radio. Taekwoon began to laugh.  
  
'Can I have one of your cigarettes?'  
  
He waited patiently for Taekwoon to work the pack out of his pocket, but took one the second the box was flipped open. He probably would have snatched the lighter too, had Taekwoon not already sparked the flame.  
  
Exhaling a gust of smoke, Hongbin went to the bathroom, opened the window. Being so far away, leaving Taekwoon alone to sway along to a song he knew would be stuck in his head for the next two days made Taekwoon feel oddly lonely. So: to his feet, stumbling over a pair of jeans, he leaned against the door frame. He put an unlit cigarette between his lips.  
  
'You really shouldn't be standing,' Hongbin laughed. 'You look like you're ready to fall over.'  
  
'Aren't you drunk?'  
  
'Me? No. I don't get drunk. Here, let's go back,' and he took Taekwoon's arm and lead him to the bed, let him sink back onto the mattress and sat silently by his feet. 'You're a really nice person by the way.'  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
'You make me feel good.'  
  
'Good about what?'  
  
'Myself. Everything.'  
  
Taekwoon smiled, the swelling in his chest returning. It was almost painful. He silently took Hongbin's cigarette and lit his own with it. Leaning his head into his hands, he scrubbed at his eyes wanting nothing more than clarity, to feel a little more sober, to not fall asleep sitting upright. When he opened his eyes: Hongbin, now sat between his feet, was looking up at him.  
  
'Do you feel alright?'  
  
This close he could smell the smoke on Hongbin's breath; and loved it. But then Hongbin was touching his face again, soft caress, light fingers; he cupped Taekwoon's jaw; and just as he was afraid Hongbin was going to kiss him, he instead buried his face into Taekwoon's neck. Right where he always did. Perfect fit.  
  
They finished their cigarettes; Hongbin played the song again, and nestled right up against Taekwoon's side. It was no time at all before they both fell asleep, awkwardly embraced and only partially on the bed.  
  
And before the sun rose, before morning officially came: Taekwoon woke with a start and a cramp in his neck that moved to the crown of his head. Pinched nerves, sore body. He forgot where he was and only remembered when he looked down to find Hongbin curled around him.  
  
His throat felt swollen, chest too tight on his heart.  
  
As carefully as he could, Taekwoon unwound Hongbin from his body, pulled the covers around him; tucking the edge just beneath his chin. And with his cigarettes in one hand, shoes only halfway on his feet, he traipsed slowly down the stairs and back onto the streets. He lit a cigarette by the entrance, leaned against the side of the building; cold brick, cold wind; cold all over, and him without a good jacket. The ride home was going to be hard.  
  
The bars were still closed, the sky still dark; but all around him: noise of the waking city. Car horns blared nearby, he could hear the train ten miles north; and the clatter of glass plates from a restaurant across the street. Everyone falling back into their morning routines, and Taekwoon there slouched against an apartment building that wasn't his, feeling strangely dirty for going home with a boy.  
  
It wasn't that Hongbin was a stranger anymore, because he wasn't. But that he was, in every way, changing the tiniest bits of Taekwoon's life. He wondered if his mother noticed he hadn't come home.  
  
Another drag off his cigarette, half finished now, and ready to head back to the golf course for his bike; but suddenly there beside him: Hongbin, and he wasn't wearing shoes.  
  
'Yah,' Taekwoon shoved him back toward the stairs. 'Go inside.'  
  
'Why are you leaving? You don't have to go.'  
  
Silent nod that said,  _I do_.  
  
'I'll go with you to get your bike, then.'  
  
He pointed to Hongbin's feet.  
  
'Oh..'  
  
And wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 'It's cold. Go inside.'  
  
'Take me out tonight.' Not a question, but a demand. Always a demand without room to deny him. Not that Taekwoon would.  
  
-  
  
His shift at the store ended at 8 o'clock, but Hongbin was there by 7:30. He was quiet at first, messing with the display cases, moving items from one rack to another. Taekwoon would have been angry had it been anyone else.  
  
'Are you almost finished?' It was 7:52 and Hongbin, with his chest against the counter and his arms stretched out toward Taekwoon, had grown restless. 'Where are you taking me anyway?'  
  
Truth be told: Taekwoon had no idea where to take Hongbin. The clubs were an option, and so were the bars; but neither were tempting on any level. He thought about the golf course again, and thought about a restaurant; they could grab dinner together at a diner, or see a movie--  
  
( _a movie? isn't that a little cliché_..)  
  
Taekwoon felt his upper lip curl.  
  
'What's wrong?'  
  
'Nothing.' He left the register, left Hongbin in favor of the coat rack in the back. He still didn't know where they would go, but in the meantime, they could do what they did best.  
  
He took the warmest jacket he could find. The nights were growing colder, wetter; rainclouds threatened low overhead, and the last thing he wanted was Hongbin sick.  
  
'But it's ugly,' Hongbin said.  
  
'It's mine.'  
  
'Still ugly.'  
  
'..put the damn thing on.'  
  
Then: out into the cold, onto his bike with Hongbin behind him, holding on just as tightly as he had the first time. They cruised through the city and its steadily quieting streets.  
  
When Taekwoon had bought the bike it wasn't because he thought it was cool, or that it fit him better than a car, because neither were true. It was because he loved the city and all its noise; it was a place one could be alone, but never lonely. He loved when the wind was bitterly cold, nipping at his face in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He liked when his hair was brushed out of his eyes, the way the rubber grips of the handles felt against his palms. It was like flying, like owning the night and not having to share it with anyone.  
  
But as of now, what he loved most was the way Hongbin felt warm and gentle against him.  
  
Sometimes Hongbin would settle for pressing his forehead against the tip of Taekwoon's spine, hiding his face from the wind. He'd sit closely as if trying to weasel his way into Taekwoon's seat; and even then, it wasn't close enough. These were the nights he was exceptionally tired, half asleep by the time they pulled up to the apartments. But tonight, though quiet, he sat excitedly with his chin resting on Taekwoon's shoulder, as if unable to see enough of the lights. And his excitement, so real, felt solid. It was as if Taekwoon could reach out and touch it with his own fingers; but it was touching him instead. It made his heart flutter in his chest, a tightening in his stomach that he was not completely acquainted with; and that was just it: Hongbin made him feel so many things he was not accustomed to. And upon realizing this, he also realized that he didn't care where they would end up that night, what they would do; it didn't matter to him. As long as he was with Hongbin, he would be fine. Happy, even.  
  
Taekwoon thought then, a fleeting little thought that left the deepest impression, that perhaps his bike was no longer for him, but for them.  
  
At least for now.  
  
-  
  
'Am I forgettable?'  
  
They were in Hongbin's bathroom with the window open. Taekwoon, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, had his cigarette partway to his mouth. He looked carefully at Hongbin, silently asking him to clarify.  
  
'Well,' and leaned up against the window sill, chin tipped to his chest, he kept his voice low. 'You meet a lot of people every day. So I guess it's normal to forget some of them. But, I.. I don't want to be forgotten.' His eyes met Taekwoon's. 'I saw Jaehwan at the store the other night. He didn't even look twice at me.'  
  
It made Taekwoon uneasy how hard his heart was beating, how a chill touched his spine.  
  
'Maybe I look different, I don't know. Maybe he didn't recognize me. But, isn't that the same thing?' gentle quiver in his voice. 'God, I don't even care about him anymore. I just didn't like it; knowing I will always recognize him, and he.. I mean, who's to say that you won't forget me.'  
  
'No, ..Hongbin.'  
  
'How do you know?'  
  
Taekwoon ran the tap in the sink, let the water run over his cigarette. 'It isn't like that,' he said slowly, knowing it wasn't what Hongbin wanted to hear. With a heavy sigh, he put out his hands. 'Come here.'  
  
He hadn't anticipated Hongbin coming so quickly, so easily pushing off the sill and all but rushing into his lap. But it was alright. He wrapped his arms around Hongbin's middle, holding his faintly trembling frame against him, let him bury his face into his neck.  
  
'I'm not going to forget you,' he promised. 'It isn't that simple.'  
  
'What if you do?'  
  
He took Hongbin's chin firmly into his hand, held his face close. 'I'm not going to.'  
  
He should have seen it coming. Maybe he did, maybe he had willed it to happen; but soon Hongbin was leaning in, hands on either side of Taekwoon's neck. He didn't stop even as Taekwoon began moving away, and he was grateful for that. Because this was what he had wanted, had  _been_  wanting, but was too afraid to do it himself.  
  
When Hongbin kissed him, it was like the world muted itself. He heard nothing but his own beating heart, felt only the gentle puffs of Hongbin's breath against his mouth. And when he started to pull away, Taekwoon found himself following him, trying to find the soft comfort of his lips for a second more.  
  
Hongbin laughed softly, nuzzled his nose into Taekwoon's cheek. 'Will you stay with me tonight?' and when Taekwoon began unwinding his arms from him, he added quickly: 'No funny stuff. Okay? I just don't want you to go.'  
  
Back into the bedroom, if you could call it a bedroom, sat on the bed as Hongbin played The Cranberries for the twentieth time. At first it had annoyed Taekwoon, having to the listen to the same song as many as five times a night; but now it was as much a part of him as Hongbin was. When it played he smiled, because Hongbin smiled; and sometimes, when he thought Taekwoon wasn't looking, he'd sway to the music, dancing gently, melodically, looking as fragile as he was; completely lost in his own happiness.  
  
Taekwoon smiled to himself now as he saw the familiar sway of Hongbin's hips; movement so languid, graceful in a way that Taekwoon would never be; and effortlessly too.  
  
But then, all too suddenly: Hongbin, on the bed with his arms around Taekwoon's shoulders. 'Kiss me again,' he said; and Taekwoon, who never denied him of anything, took his face between his hands and kissed him until it hurt.  
  
It was the first time he stayed until morning; and when he woke he found himself lying on his side with his face smothered in Hongbin's stomach, arms about his waist. And Hongbin: fingers entwined in the back of Taekwoon's hair, legs wrapped tightly around his middle; like two halves of a circle, they fit perfectly together.  
  
Two weeks of waking this way; and Taekwoon never wanted to go home, but in the end: ultimately had to. It didn't bother him much, for every evening when his shift was over and the store locked up, Hongbin would be waiting. Sometimes he'd come inside and sit at the counter, pestering Taekwoon for his full attention; but mostly he'd wait outside by the curb, already sitting on the bike, sometimes smoking the cigarettes Taekwoon would leave at his apartment. But always waiting, and always smiling.  
  
It was a Tuesday when Taekwoon left the store to find Hongbin especially excited, mounted on the bike, sat in Taekwoon's seat as if he was going to be the one to drive them home. He was chewing his bottom lip, cheeks red from the cold.  
  
Taekwoon took one look at him, and asked, 'What is it?'  
  
'I got new clothes today.'  
  
Soft laugh, 'Oh.'  
  
'Do you want to see them?'  
  
'Is that really why you're so excited?'  
  
'They're cute!'  
  
'Alright, alright,' hands up as if in defense; smiling kindly.  
  
He sat on the bed in the dull light of Hongbin's apartment, slightly amused by how much of himself had accumulated there. He had a pair of shoes by the door, slippers in the bathroom; there was a winter coat slung over the mirror in the far left corner, and some of his books piled high on the stereo. He had learned just recently that Hongbin liked being read to, and sometimes liked reading aloud. It was one of the many things they had found to occupy their time—but really, it was an excuse to never leave the bed.  
  
'It's only a shirt and a sweater,' Hongbin said from the closet. 'But they're really cute, and I think you'll like them.'  
  
Taekwoon, with a cigarette in his mouth, smirked around the filter. He watched as Hongbin laid the clothes on the bed, then watched as he began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Blood rushed to his cheeks, made his heart hiccup; he looked away, sucking in a harsh mouthful of smoke.  
  
'You can look if you want to,' Hongbin teased lightly.  
  
Taekwoon said nothing.  
  
'Or..' and something like subtle distress in his tone, 'you really don't want to?'  
  
Taekwoon couldn't help the awkward laugh that spilled from his mouth, and hated the burn in his face, his entire body. 'Shut up and put your clothes on.'  
  
A few minutes later, Hongbin giggling softly, said: 'Okay, you can look.'  
  
It wasn't anything spectacular. Only a cotton white button-up with black stitching, but it was the way it looked against his tanned skin, how it hugged his shoulders and clung to his chest, fitting his slim frame near perfectly that had Taekwoon gasping softly with surprise.  
  
'...wow,' and he laughed at himself.  
  
'Yeah?' Hongbin beamed. 'You like it, then.'  
  
'Very much.'  
  
'It's the sweater that's really cute,' and he tugged on a pink pullover twice his size. It hung loosely from his body, sleeves so long they reached his fingertips. He swam in it, looking far more delicate than he was. Taekwoon felt a little breathless. It must have shown, for Hongbin started giggling profusely, a deep blush creeping up his neck.  
  
'Cute?' he asked.  
  
'Cute,' Taekwoon said. 'Wear it the next time we go out.'  
  
'Tomorrow?'  
  
'Yes, if that's what you want.' He took a final drag from his cigarette, dropped it into an empty soda can. 'You really do look cute, Hongbinnie.'  
  
'Thanks, hyung,' and it was the first time he'd ever used formalities. It made Taekwoon oddly proud.  
  
Without changing back into his previous outfit, Hongbin sat on the floor between Taekwoon's feet. He looked up expectantly. 'Can I ask something?'  
  
'Sure.'  
  
'It's a very serious question.'  
  
Taekwoon waited; and was slightly taken aback when Hongbin crowded into his lap, hands on his shoulders. He kissed Taekwoon once on the mouth, then again on his cheek. Trailing his mouth up the sharp line of his jaw, he breathed gently near his ear; voice quiet as he asked: 'Why don't you ever touch me?'  
  
It was only reaction that made Taekwoon swallow hard, but it was panic that wiped his mind clean. 'What?'  
  
'You never touch me. Even when we kiss, you never try to. Does it make you nervous?' He sighed deeply when no response came. 'Don't get quiet on me now. I told you it's serious. It's alright if you don't want to, but I want to know why.'  
  
'Well, I, uh, I don't--' breathing deeply as a soft sweat broke out across his forehead. 'I.. don't know why.'  
  
Now with a hand cupping either side of Taekwoon's jaw, Hongbin brushed their mouths together gently; not really a kiss. 'Don't you want to?'  
  
And feeling a whine at the back of his throat, knowing just how embarrassing it would be to let it out, Taekwoon tried desperately to suppress it. He could feel his hands shaking gently, his heart crawling into his throat. 'I do,' and there was the whine, caught in his words, making it sound like he was keening rather than speaking.  
  
What was at first a teasing press of his mouth, hardened. Hongbin took Taekwoon's lower lip between his teeth, hands burying themselves in the back of his hair. 'If you wanted to, why didn't you?' and the way he asked was almost like an accusation, but more like a beg; demanding to know now. But Taekwoon couldn't tell him, because he couldn't speak; and besides, he didn't have a good enough answer.  
  
With his hands up the back of Hongbin's shirt, he kissed him hard, could feel him shaking against him, could feel himself shaking; what the hell was even happening? He felt drunk, but knew he wasn't; felt Hongbin pull away and the soft cotton of his sweater suddenly in his lap. Taekwoon took it in his hands, looked up in wonderment and found Hongbin trying, rather desperately, to undo the buttons on his shirt.  
  
It was uncomfortable how light headed he felt.  
  
Covering Hongbin's hands with his own, he helped with the buttons, tried to silently sooth him by pressing kisses against his collarbone, mouthing at the now naked expanse of his chest. It only made it worst, made Hongbin grind against him, hard and rough and terribly overbearing, but Taekwoon wouldn't stop him. He let Hongbin take his T-shirt off, allowed him to take subtle control and push him onto his back. And there: hovering above him, looking just as conflicted and nervous, running his hands up Taekwoon's sides and biting his lip as he shivered.  
  
'Hyung,' he took Taekwoon's hand, pressing it between his legs, 'touch me.'  
  
And he did, not stopping until Hongbin was a panting mess beneath him.  
  
When morning came, getting out of bed was the hardest thing Taekwoon thought he'd ever have to do. He woke as he normally did: buried in the soft region of Hongbin's stomach, only he wasn't wearing a shirt this time. Skin on skin; and Taekwoon didn't want to leave. It was impossible anyway. Hongbin had latched himself on so tightly that it took a lot of jostle and awkward shoves to pull himself free.  
  
He was slipping his shirt back on when Hongbin asked: 'Why do you always leave so early?'  
  
Taekwoon quietly stepped into his shoes.  
  
'I've something for you,' and he was getting out of bed, wearing only his underwear; looking as lithe as he had felt the night before. Taekwoon had to look away. 'It's a spare I already had, but..' He held out a brass key.  
  
Taekwoon simply stared.  
  
'Take it,' but he wouldn't. 'Hyung, it's not, like, an engagement ring.' He came closer and wrapped an arm around Taekwoon's neck, slipped the key into the pocket of his jeans. 'Do you really have to go?'  
  
Taekwoon made the mistake of breathing him in, smelling the cologne that lingered on his soft skin; knees weakened, heart unsteady. He leaned his forehead to Hongbin's bare shoulder, and felt his fingers curl around the nape of his neck.  
  
'You can stay a little longer, can't you?'  
  
Taekwoon toed off his shoes, shrugged his jacket onto the floor; and very quickly grabbed either of Hongbin's thighs. He pulled him up easily with his arms about his middle; and carried him back to bed.  
  
-  
  
For most people, love comes early; caught in the waves of adolescence. It happened to teenagers; people who watched too many soap operas; those who looked forward to it their whole lives. It didn't happen to Taekwoon. Maybe it was because he found it difficult to trust people, maybe his standards were too high; but never mind the reason. At the age of 24, he fell in love for the first time.  
  
He had just finished counting the register. The front door was locked from the inside; and sat at the counter on the same bar stool he always used: Hongbin, with his chin in his hand and his eyes closed. He wasn't yet asleep, but almost there. Taekwoon could tell by the way he breathed.  
  
And there wasn't a crescendo of feelings, no sudden understanding; Taekwoon simply looked at Hongbin, and felt sore all over. It started in his fingertips, wound through his body like a live wire, setting his blood ablaze. Then it was gone. But the pain never subsided. It was like an after effect. For as long as he loved Hongbin, it would hurt to look at him.  
  
Quickly forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, he moved around the counter, took the seat beside him; and there like déjà vu, like a parallel to how they had first met: Taekwoon leaned his face into the crook of his shoulder. He pressed his forehead to his neck; cold skin, and the flutter of his pulse like delicate bird's wings. He put both arms around Hongbin's middle, moved his face until he was buried into his hair, inhaling deeply the scent of his own cologne mingled with cherry shampoo.  
  
Even this close, he hurt.  
  
He hugged Hongbin tightly, heard his laugh and his quiet whisper as he asked, 'Are you okay?'  
  
There was very little Taekwoon could say, and even less that he wanted to share. Sitting there with an ache in his chest, impossibly close and unable to get closer, he understood just one thing: Hongbin didn't love him back. That was alright though, would be alright; for Taekwoon was prepared to wait for the day that he looked Hongbin in the eye and found his own emotions reflected back at him.  
  
But it seemed he waited an awful long time.  
  
The hours blended together like one enormous day, prolonged and never ending. He'd wake in the morning, no longer able to detach himself so easily. Kissing Hongbin awake, softly poking his sides, running his fingers over his ribcage; anything to bring him around, to have his eyes flutter open with hazy recognition; and then Taekwoon would look, he'd  _search_ ; and every morning he'd be hopeful, and every night he'd feel rejected.  
  
He wondered bitterly why he had to love Hongbin, why did he love someone who didn't love him back? And worse yet: he was starting to believe Hongbin never would.  
  
He stopped talking as much, too afraid the words would slip out when he wasn't paying attention.  
  
-  
  
In a booth at the back of a 24-hour coffee house, Taekwoon sat with his back to the entrance. This was his first mistake. He's learned since then to always watch who came and went, but completely enthralled by all that Hongbin was, he couldn't imagine looking anywhere else. He was smiling faintly, tiny upturn at the corners of his mouth as Hongbin told him about the visit to his mother's he had made over the weekend. Taekwoon had known how badly he missed her; and hearing him talk freely, smiling widely, happily, made his heart feel full.  
  
'She said I lost weight. That's a good thing, right? I can't really tell. I mean, it makes me feel good, so..' He reached across the table, tapped his fingers on the back of Taekwoon's hands. 'I was thinking next time when I go, you--' here he stopped, so suddenly Taekwoon didn't notice right away. He had been watching Hongbin's fingers and now saw them still, saw them shake; and looking up he found Hongbin fixated on something at the front of the store. Eyes so wide and drowning in emotion.  
  
It was useless to try and find what he was looking at. It wasn't as if they knew the same people, but as Taekwoon turned in his seat, his eyes like magnets drawn to metal fell on a boy with dark, side swept hair; and lips so full they looked swollen. He heard Hongbin faintly say, 'That's Jaehwan,' and felt his heart plummet.  
  
'Is it alright if I--'  
  
'Yes. Fine.'  
  
It was too easy how quickly Hongbin's hands fell away, how he rose to his feet and left Taekwoon at the table with a cup of coffee that still steamed. He told himself not to look, he didn't want to seem petty; but there: with his arms crossed over the table and his eyes narrowed, Taekwoon watched as discretely as he could: Hongbin all but flocking toward the booth Jaehwan sat in.  
  
They talked for a long time, or what at least felt long.  
  
Taekwoon's coffee had gone cold.  
  
He tried not to care, reminded himself that Hongbin had said he no longer cared for Jaehwan, but still his stomach churned. He felt breathless with jealousy; and every time he looked over, Hongbin would be smiling, dimples and all; laughing at something that Taekwoon was certain wasn't even funny.  
  
He took a cigarette from his pack, slipped it between his lips; and left. It was raining. Cold and damp, the neon of the city reflected off the pavement; puddles deep enough that he felt the water seep into his shoes. He made it a block before he lit his cigarette, now soggy from the rain. He was thankful it burned at all. And standing with his back to a closed shop window, unsure if his hands were shaking from the cold or from anger; he imagined a million and one ways to ruin Jaehwan. It hurt to know he was handsome.  
  
Someone asked him for a cigarette. He couldn't tell you if they were a man or a woman; he simply took one from his pack, even lit it for them; but disregarded eye contact completely. He was afraid what he felt would be all too apparent to stranger eyes.  
  
He smoked two by the time he felt Hongbin beside him, warm from the coffee house and maybe a little irritated.  
  
'Why'd you leave?'  
  
Taekwoon inhaled deeply.  
  
'You didn't have to leave, you know. I was going to come back.'  
  
 _Were you really_ , he wondered.  
  
'What is it, hyung?' he rest his chin to Taekwoon's shoulder. 'Are you jealous? Because you shouldn't be. It's normal to run into people.'  
  
 _You didn't run into him_ , he wanted to say;  _you ran_ to _him_. He took another drag, and hated that his breath caught.  
  
'Let's go back to the apartment.'  
  
Taekwoon turned away, looked anywhere, everywhere; watched the lights on the street post change.  
  
'Hyung..' Hongbin laced his fingers through the spaces between Taekwoon's. 'Take me home.'  
  
So he did.  
  
But even at the apartment, he wouldn't speak. He lay staring up at the ceiling, listening to The Cranberries and realizing that the song was not a favorite at all, because it hurt to listen to it. It made him sad in a way that felt hopeless. But when Hongbin nestled up beside him, curled up like a cat wanting to be pet, Taekwoon took him into his arms and kissed him deeply, trying to push every ounce of love he felt into him, wanting Hongbin to know just how devoted he was; to know he felt whole by simply lying beside him. But in his kiss: an underlining of pain that Taekwoon would never know; it was reflected in the way Hongbin fisted his shirt, bit into his lips. All it took was one simple meeting, a chance to be recognized; to see Jaehwan was to remember all the previous hurt; and like a physical hole in his heart, Taekwoon could feel all of Hongbin's old wounds re-opening, and in return: felt wounds of his own, forming.  
  
They didn't see each other for two days.  
  
The weekend came and with it: a sense of distress. Taekwoon left work early on Friday night, drove to the apartment and let himself in. On the bed, laid out on his back with a new song playing, something bitterly sad: Hongbin, his face red and pained.  
  
He startled when the door opened, but relaxed when he saw who it was.  
  
'I haven't seen you,' Taekwoon said. He crouched beside the bed.  
  
'I needed to be alone.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
No answer.  
  
He touched Hongbin's cheek and felt the dampness beneath his eyes. 'Why can't you tell me?'  
  
'Well, maybe you don't want to hear it.' He waited for a response he knew wouldn't come, and eventually righted himself; sat on the edge of the mattress with his hands clasped between his knees. 'They're moving in together. He told me at the coffee shop. Apparently they're going to the same university now, so.. I guess they thought..'  
  
'Jaehwan..'  
  
'And Wonsik, yeah.'  
  
The pressure of tears in his throat, his heart beating too loudly in his ears. Taekwoon stared at the floor.  
  
'I didn't want them to last,' Hongbin whispered. 'I mean.. why do they get to be happy together?'  
  
Taekwoon rose to his feet and for one sickly moment thought his knees would give out.  _He isn't happy_ , was all he could think.  _Not happy, not happy—not with you_. But then Hongbin was crowding him, speaking quickly, loudly, saying: 'No, that's not what I meant, hyung. I just, I don't know.. I,' and rubbing the back of his neck, voice quivering. 'I'm sorry.'  
  
'It's alright,' Taekwoon was thankful his voice didn't break. 'You can't choose who you love.' And in that moment Hongbin looked up, and finally.. finally, in his eyes: a passion burning so deeply it was almost painful to see. But it wasn't for Taekwoon. It was for someone else.  
  
It took a lot to open his arms, to bring Hongbin to his chest. His face pressed into Taekwoon's neck, perfect fit, crying softly so much like the first time they met. Taekwoon swallowed his own sadness away, muttered, 'I'll leave first.'  
  
'No. I want you to stay,' and when Taekwoon tensed against him: 'At least for tonight. If you don't want to stay again, I'll understand, but--'  
  
'Hongbin.'  
  
'For tonight, please.'  
  
Taekwoon, who would never deny him of anything, agreed in his own silent way by tipping Hongbin's face up, and pressing their foreheads together. Discarding his sweater, he allowed Hongbin to lead him to the bed, to sit him down; he let him do whatever he wanted; even listened to the horribly depressing song that play on repeat. He wondered if he was thinking of Jaehwan.  
  
That night was the only time they ever fucked. Subtle touches and stolen kisses: gone; and in their place: raw emotion so pitiful it was suffocating. Taekwoon really thought if he loved hard enough, his impression would be left—something would be left, anything. As long as it was theirs, he'd feel better; but when Hongbin came with a shout, nails dug so deeply into his back it spiked pain into his head, he knew how useless it was.  
  
And in the morning, trying to leave before Hongbin woke, Taekwoon stepped into his shoes, coat slung over his shoulder. He was checking his pockets when he heard Hongbin say, 'Leave me your jacket.' He wearily crawled out of bed, eyes so swollen he hardly kept them open. 'I'll bring it back to you tomorrow, but I want it today.'  
  
Taekwoon held the jacket out. 'Tomorrow?'  
  
'Yeah. If that's alright?' He then took a white coat from the closet. 'Take this, so you don't get sick.'  
  
Taekwoon, silent as they switched jackets, was displeased, but not surprised, when he found the sleeves were too short, the fabric pulled tightly over his shoulders. He was simply too big for it, but still: he wore it, rolling the cuffs of the sleeves to his forearms in a halfway attempt to look decent. He even smiled when Hongbin started to laugh.  
  
'It looks good,' he said, chewing at the corner of his mouth; faint blush, smiling eyes; Taekwoon could pretend for a moment that last night never happened. But as Hongbin pressed into his chest, skin cold and gently trembling, he already felt different in his arms.  
  
'Hyung?'  
  
'Hm.'  
  
Hongbin gripped the back of his neck, roughly, forcefully, dragging Taekwoon closer; kissing him hard. Taekwoon's lips smashed against his teeth; hands pressed flat against Hongbin's back; and kissing until he was breathless, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, hot all over and no longer wanting to leave. And yet  
  
when Hongbin pulled him gently toward the bed, Taekwoon pulled back. He shook his head, hand on the back of his neck; and kissing Hongbin once more, left the apartment.  
  
'Tomorrow,' he said over his shoulder.  
  
'Tomorrow,' Hongbin called after him.  
  
But tomorrow never came.  
  
-  
  
With each day that passed, unease settled deeper into Taekwoon's stomach; he spent half his shifts watching the front doors, willing Hongbin to walk through them. And every time he heard the faint jingle of the motion censor, he'd look up, ready to crawl over the counter if he had to; but it was never Hongbin, and he was beginning to think it never would be.  
  
Five days, and not a single call.  
  
It was on the fifth day with the store locked up behind him, that Taekwoon, determined and scared all at once, drove to the apartments. He lingered by the stairs, smoked two cigarettes, wondered what he'd find—who he would find. It wasn't completely mindless to think that perhaps Jaehwan was up there, maybe it was Wonsik; maybe someone else entirely. And as he mounted the stairs, walking slowly, he started to think that it would be alright if someone else was there. At least then he would know what to do; but if he opened the door and found only Hongbin, alone and depressed, crying over someone who wasn't him.. well, what then?  
  
Sweat on his forehead, sweat on his palms; he wiped his hands on his jeans before quietly slipping the key into the lock. He knocked before he opened it, hoping if he was disturbing anything he'd be spared the visual; but as he pushed the door slowly open, what he found was  
  
nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
  
The bed was there, and so was the dresser, but the drawers were all open and empty. His stack of books was shortened, only two left on top of the dresser; the two he managed to finish. The others: gone. His shoes lay by the door, slippers still in the bathroom, but when he opened the closet he found only empty clothes hangers and a ragged sweater left on the floor.  
  
He didn't bother calling out Hongbin's name; he knew he was gone.  
  
The bed was still made with the same blankets, same pillows; it seemed that was the only thing left of Hongbin's; and a bit desperately, Taekwoon crawled onto the bed, at first sitting on the edge of the mattress, but as he allowed his heart to break, he found himself curling onto his side with his face pressed against the covers.  
  
He stayed there for an hour and would have stayed all night, but it started to feel strange being in an abandoned room. So: to his feet and down the stairs, he stopped at the front desk where an elderly woman sat watching TV.  
  
'Excuse me,' he said. 'Do you know what happened to the tenant in 308?'  
  
'He left for Beijing.'  
  
'...Beijing?'  
  
She smiled. 'Did you need something out of the room? He said someone would be coming by. Are you that someone?'  
  
'I don't know.'  
  
'Oh,' and she turned back to the television.  
  
Taekwoon felt cold down to his fingertips. He felt sadness settle in the middle of his chest like a weight, crawling up toward his throat; and he was scared if he allowed it up any further, he'd end up screaming.  
  
He took Hongbin's key and placed it on the counter. 'This was his spare.'  
  
She looked hard at it, but only for a second. 'Are you Jung Taekwoon?'  
  
He nodded.  
  
'He left this for you,' and in her hand: an envelope.  
  
Back outside, sat on his bike, the glare of the yellow street lights overhead; and Taekwoon with his heart in his mouth. He tore open the envelope, and inside: a letter with only three words written on it.  
  
 _Don't forget me_.  
  
He couldn't stop from whimpering, couldn't keep himself from pressing the paper against his face; shoulders rounded and the world forgotten,Taekwoon let himself cry.  
  
-  
  
 **one year later**  
  
Taekwoon still wore Hongbin's jacket, though not as frequently anymore. In the first few months after he had gone, Taekwoon had dragged all his belongings, hoping to find something Hongbin left behind, but in the end: he only had the jacket. And so often he had held it close to his face, smelling it for comfort, remembering how Hongbin had felt against him until he had handled it too much, and Hongbin's scent had been overshadowed by his own. The day the jacket lost its smell was the day Taekwoon stopped wearing it as much.  
  
But it was winter again, and though the mornings were pleasantly cold, the nights were bitter and painful. He bought a leather coat, and beneath it: wore Hongbin's. It didn't keep him very warm, but it was a comfort of sorts.  
  
-  
  
It was a Thursday; and at the coffee house he had come to with Hongbin, Taekwoon sat now with a cup of black coffee and a small packet of cream. He sat facing the entrance, a habit he had recently developed. In his hands: a paperback so worn the spine was starting to break.  
  
It was when he was changing from page 134 to 135, his mug partway to his mouth, that his eyes flickered up and there: in the doorway with a backpack slung over his right shoulder, was Hongbin.  
  
Taekwoon blinked slowly, then blinked again. Blinked about fifteen times before he realized he was staring. Part of his brain told him it wasn't Hongbin, there was no way that it could be. He'd been gone so long there was no way he was coming back; but a saner side of him, his heart that lurched miserably in his chest, told him it wasn't wishful thinking.  
  
There had been many times over the past months that Taekwoon was certain he'd seen his face in the streets, in the stores; so desperately wanting to see him just one more time, but here his opportunity finally came, and..  
  
He rose from his seat, careful to keep his head down. He pretended to read his book as he passed through the doorway; and in the moment as he stepped from the coffee house onto the pavement, he felt  _his_  shoulder brush against him. And as it did, something like kinetic energy, something unseen, pulled him back. But he fought it.  
  
He made it to his bike, had even tucked his book into the inner pocket of his jacket, when a heavy hand gripped his arm.  
  
This close and he could see all the differences. Hongbin's hair, longer now, was pulled back in a small ponytail, curls hanging loosely about his ears; and his eyes, though the same, swam in a pool of uncried tears.  
  
Taekwoon hid behind narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He would not allow himself to feel; but as Hongbin discovered the white collar of the jacket beneath his leather coat, when he pulled back the lapels and saw what was there, what surely Taekwoon wore every day now that it was cold, his eyes clouded over, his chin trembled.  
  
He grabbed the front of Taekwoon's shirt, buried himself into his neck, sniffling softly. It took a lot to swallow down the tears Taekwoon felt, but he managed; and as he wrapped one arm around Hongbin's middle, the other petting the back of his hair, he felt the old wounds starting to fade.  
  
'Told you,' he said. Hongbin only held on tighter.  
  
When he pulled away, it felt all too soon, cold air rushing to replace the warmth he had left; and standing an arms length away, Taekwoon realized Hongbin had never been further from him, that he wouldn't come back, wouldn't come any closer; but he felt maybe he could understand it now.  
  
Some things simply didn't work.  
  
He let Hongbin kiss him, faint brush of his lips against the corner of his mouth. Then he was gone, slipping back into the coffee house as Taekwoon revved his bike, and headed home.


End file.
